Ootoro
by BumblingHare
Summary: An OHSHC AU! Business man Kyoya on the trip in NYC, reserves a table for himself in one of the best sushi bars in the city. Arriving to the restaurant by a short walk from his hotel, notices a young business attired Japanese woman.
1. Glances and Intrigue

Summary: An OHSHC AU! Business man Kyoya on the trip in NYC, reserves a table for himself in one of the best sushi bars in the city. Arriving to the restaurant by a short walk from his hotel, notices a young business attired Japanese woman, aged—probably about the same age as himself, placed directly in view of the eating customers. She's apparently intrigued by something and he's apparently intrigued with her.

* * *

The steady chatter and noises of one of America's infamous cities, the Grand ol' New York City. The eternal beauty of the land, the Statue of Liberty to the far left, proudly representing true patriotism reserved for the Americans of which they were renowned for. The bustling droves of people mixed with the new blood and sweat of awed tourists, gaping and shuttering pictures at one thing after another, in fear it would be their last visit to the iconic country or city. The native New Yorkers who knew the city by heart and vastly out maneuvered any typical person in directions to get to any place. This is the first real experience a foreigner feels when they step out of the comfort of their vehicle and submit themselves to either harsh and gorgeous beauty of the city.

Kyoya Ootori, foreign to the nightlife of NYC has his eyes darting from target to target, advertisements to pedestrians, vendor to street artist. A rite of passage for him to blend in as casually as possible under no detection, especially without any form security such as a bodyguard. There was no such thing as social ranks among the streets to the commoners, they all walked side by side as equals with a destination in mind, for all they knew they could've been walking by the president of the renowned fashion week held here or a homeless person struggling, but alive.

He strode casually as possible with the crowd, the street light turned red and the distinguishable symbol of a person walking, frozen in a bath of bright white light, counted down from fifteen seconds for everyone to pass. The place he had in mind was to eat in one of New York's best sushi restaurant as cliché as that sounded. Especially for native of the originated dish. It's notorious name, "Ichimura" with raving reviews and taste of the well off and wealthy. Extremely above commoner's weekly average paycheck, and outlandishly lavish to their simplicity.

Some might wonder in secret how a man with such power and wealth would understand the commoners' quirks and habits, his response would be simple just as the subject themselves.

Research and observations.

However, bits of his observants and deductions would be marked off as invaluable in his taste, even when knowledge was treasured amongst the intelligent and frugal. It wasn't useable by any means. It did not raise their family's stocks or power, therefore meaningless by default.

The side of the restaurant sign caught his lidded eyes hidden from the protection of his glasses. He was hungry despite his reluctance to admit it. He sighed in relief quietly, walking to meet the entrance but was caught walking at a slower speed when his eyes met a young japanese woman in business attire with short hair cut, almost resembling a male. She was frozen on one spot, in front of his destination. Eyes clearly drawn to something past the glass window. When he reached to the front of the establishment, he walked passed her in complete silence, catching a glimpse of what stole her attention.

"Ootoro?" He thought out loud, only to his ears, clearly befuddled by the woman's unwavering focus on a meager dish left unattended by the consumers as they were caught in riveting conversation as opposed to eating it. His hand reached the cool handle and entered the place unnoticed. Although, a chime of a bell on top of the door, did alert her a second too late. She watched with a bemused attention to the glasses clad man murmuring a single word to a server, in which turned into a guide ushering him to his table.

"Must be rich." She thought sadly, watching the new customer make a choice of his order. This was a place she heard about from Boston, the place where she lived for a couple of years in order to graduate from her law school. She wanted her first time trying out the mouth watering Ootoro to be the best in..at least in America.. But with the little money she had available from her last month's rent, coupled with the plane ticket she had already bought in order to go home to Japan, meant she was almost entirely broke.

If only a miracle could happen.

She sighed, looking back to the lavish man ordering.

* * *

Kyoya looked at the menu with ease knowing the dishes by heart, only using it as a mere device to catch a glimpse of whether or not the woman outside was still there. He glanced when she frayed her attention away, fortunately she was still in the same spot, looking hungry and glum, different from her previous expression of interest and curiosity.

It was completely unlike of him to be this taken about a woman he barely knew, but something was of interest to him. She was clearly Japanese by the muttering of certain syllables she hid under her breath. The way her lips moved as she looked wistfully at the food carefully prepared, and likely well educated by the briefcase accommodating her modern, professional outfit. The brunette posed no immediate striking qualities really, but she wasn't dismissing his attention either.

He erased the thoughts hastily, laughing under his breath of his own words. Kyoya obviously contradicted his first impressions with his own musings of her.

Why would she just stand in front of a restaurant anyways, watching others eat when she could very well come inside and purchase a meal. Strange.

"Maybe..l—no." He shot down the idea quickly, sighing at his inner crossfire between amusement and knowing what's unmannerly. Still, he couldn't stop what happened next when the server came to him, summoned by his own hand, pointing at the girl outside. The lawyer finally noticed the pointed finger in her direction, slightly stunned and frozen in distress and from being caught. 'What am I doing…'

* * *

"Oh no!" She hissed out in a faint whisper, facepalming at herself internally for being so unprofessional, and even more so for being caught like a crazy poor woman with nothing better to do than stare at food being served.

Though it did fit her situation quite well; not that she'd willingly admit to it.

Her shoulders sunk considerably, humiliated enough to just turn away and go back to the airport's hotel nearby with an empty stomach like she had originally planned, but at least with her dignity intact.

But out of her sight with her body turned ready to flee, someone tapped her shoulder. She twisted her neck around to see the person with an apologetic look. It was one of the waitresses from the restaurant. She almost grimaced, thinking of the worse.

'a banishment from ever coming within a hundred feet away from the place, to a misdemeanor for making a public disturbance to the customers—" her mind rambled.

"Umm..I apologize for my actions, if I made a mistake I won't come back-" Haruhi began to say, slightly flushed. Her foot was hot and ready to turn and run immediately.

"-No, no no! That's fine." She reassured the youthful woman, adding a smile. "That young man over there," the waitress pointed at the guy Haruhi was staring at before. "-told me to invite you in and to take a seat at his table."

'What does he want with me?' The edges of the waitress's lips turned upward into an easy smile as if to say, 'he seems like a nice gentleman with good intentions'. Haruhi fidgeted with the handle of her briefcase, thinking momentarily on whether to accept it and risk a dangerous and uncomfortable encounter with a possibly evil man. Or...return to the hotel, defeated and hungry, but safe.

Despite everything going against it, she unceremoniously nodded a reluctant 'yes'.

Immediately after Haruhi answered her question, she was guided in. Haruhi entered the place that was once impossible. They headed into the expensive looking room, the compartment with the red booths and to the mandarin red table of the mysterious man.

'Oh no.' she thought uneasily, growing anxious. 'I'm going to sit with a random stranger who brought me in for no reason, besides possibly spotting me stalking him ordering dinner.. what do I even say to him, say thank you, or question his intentions?'

The closer we got, the better Haruhi got to see his appearance. He was noticeably taller despite sitting in a booth, hair smooth down and short while retaining the appearance of being soft, and matted black. He wore a white button down shirt without it being fully buttoned up to the collar, a black business jacket with pockets and a handkerchief slot. Very crafted, black Italian shoes with ankle socks and most noticeably, rimless glasses making his face unreadable. The man was attractive, she couldn't deny it. But why did he want me in here in the first place.. this is humiliating.

The waitress mumbled a few words to him in private, not that she was eavesdropping, besides the quiet chatter and reviews of the dining experience from all around prohibited her.

The employee bowed formally to the guests, a familiar Japanese custom that was relaxed in America and gestured me to sit across from the dark haired man in expensive clothing. Haruhi momentarily stiffened at the instructed action, before obeying wordlessly to her command, sitting right across. The server then wished them a good night, since it was no longer the afternoon quite surprisingly at least to Haruhi.

"Hi." she said trying to converse with him, ending up a little shaky with her voice. This was her first time speaking in Japanese to another person in a while, excluding her father's nightly calls. Then she tried searching for his eyes despite his stoic expression and shielding glasses, but to no avail.

"Hello." He said eloquently in their native tongue. "Have you found the thing you are adamantly searching for?" He officially responded. He spoke clear fluent Japanese and poised it as a question rather than the introduction she expected.

"Huh, what do you mean?" Haruhi asked honestly confused, a finger wedged on the outside of her cheek between her jaw and vast soft flesh of her cheek. Just as he opened his mouth to speak she had already made the mistake to interrupt him in mid sentence. "—you mean eye contact?"

"Not exactly. " he answered in an even tone, playing with a single chopstick stuck between his index finger and thumb.

"You were absorbed with an object or should I say plurally, objects, which I didn't understand. Coupled with the fact that you didn't bother to enter the restaurant." He directed his attention to my briefcase and outfit. "You are a lawyer, correct?"

She gave a slight nod, folding her hands together from the level of profession he denounced from quick observations. Where was he going with this. Should she be giving this information so carelessly? He wasn't her client and she didn't have any background information to pull out. Although, this could very well be an opportunity to gain one.

"The salary of a lawyer should be big enough to eat in a fine place such as this without confining restrictions. Or so I would hope so if you've spent years to graduate with the title."

' _Ohhhh.._ ' she was relieved and slightly insulted.

"I should explain then." She half-laughed relieved by his concern. "I went to abroad to Boston to study. I stayed in America for four years in a dorm, alone. Traveling back and forth during the summers. I have an internship at a firm but I'm not full fledged lawyer just yet, and the paychecks I earn is to pay for rent, utilities, groceries, and my father sometimes—including my plane ticket today that I needed to buy because I'm now finished in America."

"Ah, I see. You're going to Japan tonight then." He stated the obvious, still unreadable.

"Yes and finally back home to see my dad." Haruhi sighed wistfully, shutting her eyes, feeling relief wash over at the thought of her childhood home. But that drastically faded away when she realized what he meant with his initial question about her salary.

Her head hung low; a reflection of feeling the effects of my current financial state. "Basically, i'm broke until I arrive at Japan.. or at least until the flight," 'but I remember being motion sick on the way here and sleeping made it better."

"-and I didn't get to eat here."

He gave a look of acknowledgement even though it was brief and concealed.

"Now the reason I'm in New York City," He spoke up, her eyes affixed on him, "is because I booked my flight not too far from here and the given curiosity of the city." He drawled, a bit more relaxed in his seat now more acquainted to her. "There's a chance we might be on the same flight tonight, based on gathered information."

"Really?" She blinked while the man in tonal colors, reached for his cool glass of water.

"Yes." He swallowed with ease. Setting down the glass on the table soundlessly. "But i'd be in first class."

Without noticing, the same waitress that assisted them from before arrived to their table with assorted tray, setting their table up with bountiful amounts of sushi and sashimi from fresh salmon, fatty tuna, to mackerel and cooked shrimp. Also accompanied by the traditional known side dishes such as wasabi, soy sauce, pickled ginger, pickled daikon radish, and steaming miso soup. Haruhi was wide eyed by the gorgeous plates and by their presentation. The eye-pleasing food she once researched about was in her face, wafting with scents of the ocean into her senses. It all looked undeniably delicious but pricey.

"Enjoy the food." The waitress thanked the customers with the appropriate bow, before leaving.

'Now this is uncomfortable,' she agreed to herself, rubbing her hands up and down the sides of her arms. She wasn't allowed to touch the food nonetheless consume it. It was tantalizing. Maybe watching it through the window was for the better option for her than she originally thought. She looked up from her lap, observing him as he scanned the bountiful options on the wooden platter before selecting her most salivated favorite.

"Do you plan to observe the entire restaurant until you leave for your flight." He asked idly, popping the irresistible ootoro in his mouth with his callous motions.

"No." She felt blood burn her cheeks in denial. "I was just about to leave to my hotel."

"Well since I brought you in here, you can eat what's on this table. It will be free of charge." He muttered while looking at her, plucking another piece of sushi.

"Really? Eat with you?" Haruhi repeated, making sure it wasn't her imagination or a ruse. Honestly.. he seemed sketchy in a money shark type of way, like an approaching lion.

While her mind was wrapped in disbelief, she let those words seep through her mind as she grabbed a pair of chopsticks slowly.

He nodded in affirmation in a nonchalant way.

After of moment of hesitation, Kyoya broke the silence.

"Pardon me, but what is your name?" He asked, focusing on snatching another piece of ootoro on the plate.

'My name..' She pondered for a second, slightly displeased when she saw him chew one of the five remaining pieces of ootoro. "Haruhi Fujioka." Giving an assured nod.

"Kyoya Ootori."

He gazed at her, slowly tilting his head when he observed her eat the piece of fatty tuna with unrivaled content and satisfaction. Something that puzzled him. No other person of significance in his life had ever shown such pleasure from something so trivial as ootoro, except perhaps his sister. She didn't even react to his surname. Maybe.. it was only foreign to him because he never let any commoner with essentially no merit, enter his life so willingly and reward him with intrigue.

'Haruhi.' He tested in his thoughts, plucking each syllable out.

"Well it's very nice to meet you Kyoya." She stuck her hand out, he shifted his gaze, eying her hand for a moment before accepting it.

"I find it interesting you go for the fatty tuna over anything else. Is it your favorite?" He said idly.

"Huh? Oh yeah.." She blushed temporarily in embarrassment, "there's a short story to that."

She watched him become silent yet again, however this time with more anticipation, as if Kyoya was patiently waiting for her to continue. So she did.

"I've never actually had the real ootoro before, but I find tuna sashimi to be very delicious. So when I was little, I vowed to try it once in my life. No matter what and the best kind."

"That's a gamble, since not everyone has the luxury to ever try such a lavish dish with high quality. Not that it matters anymore, considering you already enjoyed a piece." He fixed his glasses closer to the bridge of his nose, moving his attention back to his plate.

"I guess so." She thought briefly, taking a sip of the miso.

After the two devoured about more than half of the contents from the table, both were more laxed to even maybe start conversing. Haruhi continued to eat, while Kyoya looked far to content to consume furthermore. Haruhi wasn't going to let all of the remaining food go to waste, even if she would regret it on the way home.

"Kyoya-sama," she called out with the added formalities, not really paying much attention to the wealthy man in black and white attire but rather her next selection of food.

"Now that you have asked about my occupation. What about yours?"

He was quiet, quickly analyzing what possibly would happen if he let out such information. She wasn't threatening to say the least but it just didn't feel the opportune moment to reveal his entire identity just yet. Any person with significant knowledge of the rich and powerful in Japan would have immediately known the name of his family, even the waitress recognized, but apparently not this woman. It was quite amusing for someone to be naive and _shiny_ to cause such a ruckus inside his mind. He'd hold back some truth in his answer.

"I'm a general practitioner in family health, or in other words a doctor." He rested his chin on his palm which acted as a stand. "There was a doctor's convention held here moments ago." It was a lie.

"Ah, then that explains your wealth." Haruhi's eyes fluttering between plate and his eyes, obviously in a ceasefire for attention. Kyoya's mouth twitched upwards.

"Does that imply lawyers struggle in their weight of profit, because it sounds like a terrible payout on your behalf."

"No, it just has it's ups and downs for a rookie like me." She sighed exasperatedly. "I need more clients."

"What's your rate of winning these cases."

"I haven't lost a single case yet and I've done seven."

"Well that's good. Maybe I can help advertise your services in my office in Japan." He offered cleanly.

"Really?" Haruhi lifted her head asking again to be certain, looking perplexed from the abrupt offer.

"Of course, if you lend me some help, free of charge." He pushed his glasses up.

"I don't know.. not to be rude but.. how popular and trusted is your medical practice Kyoya-sama?"

"I would say, very known and highly reputable." He vaguely estimated. The Ootoris' were ranked high in competition in the medical field with standing ovations throughout the country. She would most likely have health insurance under their name if she'd check.

"I'll have to sleep on it before I can give you a sound answer." She started to rummage through her purse, looking for something it would seem, something rectangular hid in her palm.

"You can have my card." She offered, showing and giving a card with her contact information. He glanced at it quickly then slipped it in his pocket discreetly.

With their surprisingly empty table, he looked around the room, the population of the restaurant at its lowest he'd seen it to be and the night staff wiping off the dirty, empty tables left from previous customers.

He coughed purposely, capturing her attention. "It looks like closing time is approaching. We should about end our dinner now."

"Of course! Thank you so much Kyoya for the dinner." She smiled sheepishly, beginning to stand up.

"No problem."

 _'I expect this dinner to be paid off in the future._ ' He smiled with fake innocence.

They both shook their hands together as a final farewell, a firm but wistful gesture for two new acquaintances.

"This is goodbye then, it was nice meeting you Kyoya-sama."

He grunted in response, looking away, assuring her the favor was returned. After Kyoya paid the waitress handsomely, they both walked out together in silence, the air not heavy nor damp but pleasant. He stopped right in front of the sidewalk, Haruhi looking up to meet his face.

"We'll part ways here, my hotel is a several miles away so I'll hail a cab." Kyoya piped.

"Oh." She said with an understanding tone. "Okay then, thank you again for letting me eat for free.. And I had a nice time talking to you." She smiled again, second time stirring something deep inside him.

"It was nice to meet you Haruhi." He searched in himself to bare a smile because he felt she deserved one and it did, surprisingly quickly. "Farewell." Kyoya said, looking at her face one last time. The brunette woman significantly shorter than him, gave an easy smile, giving Kyoya a firm nod.

The dark haired, shadowy man stepped into the cab he managed to hail, and muttered the destination to his hotel before the driver drove away into the city's busy streets. He only stole one glance at the central mirror's reflection of her as they drove further away into the heavy roads of NYC.

Haruhi watched until the car disappeared from her sights before walking away to the nearby airport and its accommodating hotel at the opposite direction.

* * *

The glasses clad young man stepped inside his room, rejoicing in his privacy with a tired sigh before collapsing on the nearest chair. A horrible, stiff and sturdy deep ember wooden chair with a threaded thin red cushion that didn't please his sore body at all. Kyoya stretched his long legs out before slipping his shoes off as well as his tie and suit. As soon as he shrugged off his white dress shirt, he replaced it with a new grey tee-shirt, as well as exchanging his pants for a pair of shorts.

He dragged his body over to the bed, with his cell phone at hand, plopped on the serene cushion on the white bed. He relished the wonderful feel of the soft material balancing him on top of. Kyoya never made a tradition of enjoying the mediocrity of hotels. But this particular day, weighed in his tiredness by double the amount—and it sure gave Kyoya relief he needed.

Kyoya rolled over, facing the ceiling, slowly inhaling and exhaling, and removed his glasses from his face with a rub before he checked to read the messages on his phone. He scanned over all his unread emails as part of routine, his texts from his best friend and friends, and lastly, looked over his stocks including the stock market. His emails were nothing out of the ordinary, all resolvable once he returned to Japan. Tamaki and the others could stick a couple of days without his supervision if it meant less interference from his short vacation. Stocks fared average as usual and some did better than the rest. Kyoya could sleep well tonight. Yet Kyoya was left wondering.

When would he have another interesting run in with someone refreshing as her. Someone intelligent, simple like the woman he'd met outside the restaurant. Fascinated by food and easy to talk to, instead of idle, high strung chit chat with some people. Not high maintenance unlike many of his friends and acquaintances were, who depleted his energy rather oftenly. However, he wasn't one to complain, challenges were always accepted of course, but as expected as they were, Kyoya still felt exhausted afterwards and.. lacking. Kyoya innately wanted someone to speak freely to. No formalities.

Companionship wasn't one of his strong desire in his lists of importance but they'd risen in certain situations that felt out of his control. Unexpected dinners or parties when he's expected to bring a date and left him asking one of the many girls eager to get closer to him.

His father for months, had been urging him to take the initiative and dabble in finding a potential spouse, but they ended as quickly as they were found. Boring, pampered, squeamish, loud or on the opposite spectrum— just never the compatible match Kyoya sought in a romantic partner.

But more importantly, they were full of merit with their rich family backgrounds, none failing to benefit the Ootori name. Even as dreadfully lackluster as they were to his perception. What could he do..?

* * *

(This is my first ever published story, so what do you think? Should I continue or leave it on a mysterious note. Either way I hope you enjoyed my first publishing on this site and we shall see what I plan to do with this. It does take my time up to write these chapters, so please be patient with me. Thank you for reading and please review what you can offer. - **-BumblingHare** )


	2. A Pact

The morning was tranquil for the lone occupant, breathing aligned with the chest's slight rise and fall. The comforter that once covered his body was pushed to his ankles, his hair disheveled against the pillow.

But, breaking the serenity, two devices simultaneously shrieked.

More than merely half asleep, escaped noises of irritation as the pale figure flopped over on the opposite side, giving an attempt to drown them out.

Unfortunately, a futile minute.

Irritated, his free arm blindly reached for the source, eventually finding one of the culprits of his displeasure. He grabbed the corded phone and slammed the landline phone with no regards, next feeling around for his phone, even though he recognized that particular ringtone.

"Hello." His rough groggy voice answered, bogged by his unhappy state.

"Sorry to bother you, young master, but you did request a wake up call at exactly 7 am." The guard stated.

 _Right_. He turned, facing the ceiling, doing his best not to drudge the time.

"I'm aware. Thank you, Tachibana." He shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight.

"No problem, and make sure you have breakfast sir."

"Uh huh." Kyoya hung up languidly, adjusting his cell before slipping it in his laptop bag at the edge of the bed. At his feet, his glasses perched his face while he towered over his suitcase and pulled out one of his many outfits arranged by his manager. It was a grey suit with silver cufflets, a white button down shirt, matching grey pants and a monochromatic, horizontal striped tie. Obviously he didn't mind the control over his clothing, he craved efficiency. Not to mention the majority of his clothing met her criteria.

In preparation, he took a brisk warm shower and in about a half an hour he was spick and span with his hair parted at its signature look and his glasses spotless. Finishing the cufflets on his wrists, Kyoya primped the look in the mirror before taking one final swift overview of his belongings.

 _Looks good_. He mused, inspecting the tables, nooks and crannies.

He zipped his suitcase, attached the lock, and left the room unscathed. Out of the elevator, a sole voice lead him to the front desk.

Withdrawn in his own mind, he pulled the room card out of his wallet and returned it wordlessly. The receptionist took the card and swiped it in a scanner, taking only a couple of seconds for his information to appear. After another two minutes of exchanging cards, the receptionist finally said.

"There you go, sir. Thank you for your stay, Mr. Ootori,"

Kyoya's chest exhaled thankfully, immediately fleeing towards the exit, but paused internally when he heard the employee shout, "You have a complimentary ride outside, sir, a gift from the hotel. Please come again." The receptionist's face was a uniformed smile, one recognizable to a trained user. He saw a black sedan and a chauffeur in black fashion as promised. With the door wide open for him, so he stepped inside, the luggage being loaded in the trunk.

"Where to sir?" The chauffeur gruffly asked, a trimmed beard adding to his rugged wise appearance as the trunk closed with a thunk.

"John F. Kennedy International Airport." He ordered, gazing out the front windows.

* * *

Haruhi sat on a bench looking at her idle shoes, her luggage sandwiched in her legs waiting for the imminent chime of her plane.

For booking her flight, the breakfast lounge offered complimentary baked goods, water and hot beverages. She chose a croissant with a small cup of coffee, without cream, just sugar. The coffee acting excessively useful from a restless night.

Yet, not amongst the choicest nor healthiest of breakfast compared to yesterday's feast.

Looking around, she saw groups of families with welcoming balloons and bouquets of flowers, some arriving and others heading towards exits. Maybe her father will treat her the same. She liked flowers, especially the cliché pick, red roses. Roses were pretty, layered, and defensive with their thorns. A thought flitted into her mind.

Who was she going to return to besides her dad?

She rubbed her feet tiredly, the corners of her mouth frowned. A handful of friends she had met from grade school knew her. But there was an intangible barrier she didn't know how to bridge and it was connecting in a more meaningful relationship to them. Most memories grazing her memory were at most, graduation and big school events, with everything else thrown into haze. The clearest of memories lies with her parents.

Before the incident with her mother.

To become a lawyer was because of her.

The memory of sitting on the bed of her parents and waiting for her mom to sleep from the occasional work brought home, comforted her immensely.. Her snoring father that she could giggle quietly at with her mom because he was expressive and childlike.. yesterday's _Ootoro_... Those were unforgettable. But people her age simply did not stick.

Oblivious to the risen sun, the sunlight swept off the glass, creating tall regal, column shadows as the escaping sunlight blinded her sight. She rose her hand to shield her eyes and caught sight of a small knit group of men in dark suits waiting with dark glasses, speaking in Japanese.

* * *

Arriving out of the taxi, his stuff was lugged to the entrance of the sliding doors. He looked around the crowded building, and sauntered to an empty seat.

His phone lit up with a buzz, he answered, recognizing the ringtone.

"Hello."

"Sir, please excuse me for forgetting to mention a detail. A couple of guards will be accompanying you on your flight as extra measures. They will be looking for you by your phone signal." He paused, before replying, "I understand, Tachibana."

"Thank you sir. Have a safe trip."

He pressed a button, ending the call and crossed his legs.

 _Was it necessary?_ He wondered, but then his stomach rumbled, triggering his memory to get breakfast.

* * *

Haruhi averted her gaze, newly fascinated by the number of foreigners of many nationalities. But in particular the small congregation of asian men. Tall and quiet, except for the one holding a phone. Boldly leading the rest through the cracks in the crowds.

She pulled back the parchment wrapper of the croissant and took a bite, watching with tamed interest.

Interrupting, a booming electronic voice resurfaced, an enormous screen displaying an updated schedule of flights. Her plane number resurfaced, status: landing.

She chewed slowly, the bread dissolving into a fine, pulpy paste, before deciding to move to her designated area. But amidst in the shuffling, in the far corner, she saw a person moving closer in stride paces towards the group of men, all of them suddenly bowing to him.

She gave a petulant face, and stopped her actions.

 _What the hell is happening?_

She squinted, narrowing her line of vision to the 'leader' but was futile by the bobbing sea of heads.

They warmly welcome each other, none of them bothering to perturb the newbie, but formed a loose barrier protecting him.

Above all, she heard a specific voice pipe up. A velvety, persuasive tone, ushering the circle towards her direction. She paused. Not knowing the reason for urgency in her mind, until she locked her eyes on her phone, focusing needlessly on the screen trying to camouflage.

"-mply don't believe it, will a burger really quench your hunger, young master?"

"Yes it will. Americans portions are ridiculously filling and inexpensive with the purpose to be quickly devoured. Plus.. i'm not starving." The leader spoke, shoulders slightly rising until they slunk back to normal.

They breezed past her, already two stores down, before they stopped in front of a "WcDonalds's". The middle man stepped out of his little wall of protection and stepped in the empty line.

 _Huh_?

She suddenly choked, it was Kyoya. The same man from yesterday.

He tugged out his black wallet, ordering a small combo meal; a Big Wac, small fries and small cola, pricing up to less than five usd. The young woman finally noticing his dapper appearance as well, wearing borderline upperclassmen clothing that normally people saw in ridiculously expensive boutiques and sites. Why was he was fitting the criteria with his entourage.

Though, again, her flight number boomed, and again she felt compelled to leave. This time she caved in, fleeing the scene.

* * *

Kyoya sank into his seat, the dark blue seat relieving the brunt of his spine. The plane slight humming, comforting to the ears as it geared to lift off.

As time began to wind down to its final minutes, movement from the other passengers quickly ceased. The glasses clad man browsed on his phone, mowing through news articles out of boredom, somehow wasting enough minutes for the announcements of the plane's departure tappear.

The sound of clicking heels welcomed into his ears. A flight attendant pulled open the gray curtains, bringing out not a cart of refreshments but a person in tow. With the dim lighting he saw nothing at first, but felt a shift in curiosity. A hum of approval followed the attendant, and suddenly it dawned to him that inexperienced, calm voice behind her was Haruhi Fujioka.

The quiet man balked at the coincidence, tensing up as he caught a peek of her back side and her hair. Why was she here?

He tracked their path, his jaw fractionally grinding as they drew nearer, but when they were only a couple of feet away, they stopped, his sudden relief was tainted with some incoherent whim of dejection. Kyoya realized he was being foolish. The pair of women at a vacant seat two rows ahead, began chatting and in the midst of shuffling and given instructions, a pair of unsuspecting brown eyes missed his.

He ditched the sight. Nestled his head on a propped pillow, and looked out his window, giving a vague estimation of their projected height as the plane ascended in height.

fter the pilot's announcements stopped, he began returning emails. Only then did something unexpected happen. In his inbox a sole title stood out at the top of his mail that demanded his attention. A surprise message from his father. One not often received without urgency. He clicked it.

 _Kyoya,_

 _We will talk when you return, come to my office as soon as possible. Preferably tomorrow after dinner. It involves your siblings included. I would like to talk to you and your brothers quickly as possible._

 _-Ootori Yoshio_

Kyoya could accurately guess where it was going.

He exhaled. Untwisting the bundle of knots in his stomach that entangled themselves.

Still nothing budged the lodged anxious fears.

Would it be that time already. The decision his siblings and himself fought over tirelessly for years.

His victory?

His lost?

Jumping to conclusions could also infer another more ominous fate. His father's health was deteriorating..?

Suddenly, racked with a train of fatigued thoughts, he shut the phone off completely and rolled to one side, willing for sleep to come and erase his fervent thoughts.

* * *

He woke up to the soft clatter of utensils, light conversation, a lit blue sky, a blanket of clouds below it, hearing some neighboring passengers clink their forks and knifes on ceramic plates as they ate.

His international wrist watch help identify it was in the early afternoon. He took a look at the menu, an eager flight attendant waiting nearby. Kyoya summoned her and ordered the most appetizing meal available, a bowl of piping hot shoyu beef ramen with a soft boiled egg, edamame beans, cold potato salad, and cubed assorted melons in cute shapes. His drink was a glass of the best wine available. Especially relieving the dull ache he got from the aviation.

He turned to observe the room, watching some eat with etiquette and others beaming at the mention of a free meal, then inevitably towards the commoner's direction. He was aware her order was already done. She had chosen the same meal, except, her drink was non-alcoholic, a glass of sparkling cider thanks to the convenient placement of the miniature bottle's label.

He grabbed the set of utensils and tested them in his bowl. In the midst of eating, he gorged on the wine's first glass.

An interruption stalled his bliss. He twisted to the source of his fixation, as his lips parted the ember richness. Reaching over to pour more into his glass. He drank, occasionally sneaking glances at the commoner.

Panning her options, she selected a ripen juicy, red cubed watermelon in the bowl. Chewing, the fruit pulped in her teeth like a slurry of red snow, delightfully moistening her tastebuds with a pechor of sweetness. She hummed happily, quickly lapping the runaway juice at the edge of her damp lips.

Becoming lax, Kyoya watched her eat in subtle interest. His limbs were languid as he ate, resulting in another familiar bodily sensation, a sudden warmth flushing his system. He finished the liquor, his soup and a nibble of the cantalope shaped as a heart.

He sank down, threw his head back, rubbing his head of hair against the headboard, and grimacing at his body's state. He felt vulnerable and something else; indescribably high. Another development was his quickened heartbeat, pounding into his skull like a quickened metronome and sudden excessive thirst not quenchable by the copious amounts of liquids he drank. But of course that was laced in alcohol as well.

So, he just stopped. Stopped moving incessantly and relinquished to his struggle to the temporary drug. The wealthy male's pupils lingered on the female, her blissful ignorance, far too consumed on her nourishment to notice. Her natural lips glistened and glowing skin.

This was wrong.

Kyoya pinched his temple, resting the empty drink on the given tray of food. What made this woman tick?

He growled in frustration. This was outright confusing. It wasn't her fault yet she triggered emotions that felt unstable. Emotions he once steeled himself from for so _long._

 _I'll get to the bottom of it.._ He swore under his faint breath, slipping into a slumber.

* * *

Haruhi looked below the impenetrable glass, the endless blanket of white hugging the blue stratosphere, taking a moment to stare at the wonder. Soon realizing her longing for home and her dad. The daily tasks of her father's antics, the company, the headshakes of disapproval of her antics to the Saturday sales and the bone-crushing hugs.

She was fueled by the words, 'welcome home!', to come out of her dad.

As if summoned, her phone buzzed. A message from her dad.

The further she read, the more the realization dawned to her. He was _not_ going to be at the gate when she arrived, rather stuck at an important meeting.

Guess, the hug was going to come later.

* * *

"Dad! I'm home!" She yelled across the apartment, expecting a warm embrace and an eager father.

The door opened with a hollow atmosphere, a gust of billowing her medium length hair inside. Very atypical.

"Dad! Are you home?" She shoved the door close by the hip, locked it and switched the lights on. Moving forward, a soft crunch, followed beneath her foot. A note with a piece of tape.

Haruhi picked it up and flipped it over, the name addressing to her, and it read:

" _My dearest daughter Haruhi,_

 _I'm so sorry but I can't make it home tonight and I know, I sound like a terrible father but one of my friends called in sick -that bastard- and the bar needs a bartender for the night or else we'll get in trouble! I love you so much sweetie and i'll see you soon, then we can talk all day tomorrow since I'm off! Again, see ya soon honey!_

 _Love, Dad_ "

She crumpled the note and with a exasperated sigh, and tossed it in the correct bin. Whatever emotions she had coming home, faded with the empty atmosphere. Now the night was present with an eerie silence.

Taking in the surroundings, her eyes flickered around the sight of their house. Picture frames filled with memories of the past etched inside. Mom's shrine intact with leftover lit incense. New calendars replacing the old. But nothing drastically changed, just the essentials like a calendar, the kitchen sponges, and the toothbrushes.

Walking around the apartment, she turned the lights of every room, a moment of reflection. Sometimes, those moments of nostalgia triggered a brief image of a memory.

She sure missed home.

Half an hour later, in freshly washed pjs, she crawled into her bed and hugged the covers, like old times. Sleeping soundly and snuggly within seconds.

The incense of her mom freshly lit.

* * *

" _HONEY_!"

She heard the familiar voice shout, followed by a tight hug. Subdued, she fluttered her eyelids a couple of times, meeting the face of her smiling father.

His eyes were wet, his ears pink, and his hair vibrantly dyed. As always, very handsome. She smiled back, wrapping her arms around his torso, hugging him tight.

"Hi, dad." Settling her head in the crook of his shoulder, she closed her eyes, relishing the reunion.

"Hi, sweetheart!" He sat on the bed, crooning her as he gave his signature bone crushing hug.

"God, how I've missed you. Look how tall and beautiful you've gotten!" He sniffed, wiping his tears with his sleeve, holding her hand.

"I'm not that much taller than before." She laughed, taking the sight of her father while moving to stand.

"Lies, you're as tall as your mom." He wistfully complimented, scratching his upper back. A flash of sadness hit his face, Haruhi noticed.

The young woman stared at the mirror, her shape, her earrings, somewhat admiring her updated appearance. He was right, she replaced the exact height her mother used to fit.

"Since it's Saturday, how about we go fetch some breakfast at the nearby café and catch-up? I'm sure you need a break from cooking."

"Hmm.. okay." She settled contently, pulling an outfit together from her closet.

" _Ooooh_! Wear this—!" Her father tugged a piece of fabric towards her, white with ruffles and black stitching.

"This?"

"Absolutely, you'll look wonderful, honey."

"Okay." She blinked, hugging the material close to her body to examine.

"Ooh! I want to tell you all about this man who approached me earlier with a bunch of yakuza looking guards!" He filled her in, more than happy to reunite with his precious baby girl.

* * *

After an eventful conversation of her education, events, and exchanging stories between father and daughter, a call interrupted, an unrecognizable number.

"Hold on dad, hello?"

"Haruhi Fujioka."

"Yes?"

"Sorry to interrupt you, this is Kyoya Ootori, are you free tomorrow morning?"

She pondered thoughtfully.

"Yes. Not that I'm aware at the moment." Ranka listened closely to the call, interested in the caller acquainted to his daughter.

"Can we schedule the meeting tomorrow. I'm going to be busy the next few days being gone for a week from my practice."

"Uh.. sure."

"10 am."

"Uh huh." She noted the time, her dad remembering as well.

"See you tomorrow, Haruhi-san."

"See you tomorrow.. Kyoya- _san._ " She accidentally emphasized the first utter of his new attached formality. She put the phone away, aware eyes were in her.

"What?"

"A boy?" He teased, eyes narrowed.

"Yes, but it's a potential employer." She corrected, hoping he didn't get the wrong assumption.

"Still a male." He warned lightheartedly, taking his second shot of espresso.

* * *

Kyoya walked in, the lawyer not far behind.

She walked inside his open apartment in utter awe, the size approximately quadruple the size of hers. It was exceedingly neat and balanced, a mixture of modernism and traditional that it belonged inside an interior designer's catalog. The windows were clear, tall, with a crisp view of the bustling city, black curtains at each side, following the monochrome schemes in the floorboards and walls. The decor was simple, yet porcelain vases littered the tables and shelves, some she even recognized from the commoner markets and a few large colorful paintings of flowers and cats. Slipping her shoes off, she gaped at everything his house offered, leaving Kyoya amused.

"Like what you see?' He asked, leaning against an arch, judging by her array of emotions slewn on her face.

Haruhi's eyes settled on his, nodding slowly, still absolved in its beauty.

"This is your place?" She asked in contempt, creases forming at her forehead. "You know, I bet two single family households could live here comfortably." Teasing or not, her mouth curled up impishly. The oldest in the room did too, charmed by the response.

"Yes it is; more or less. There's four bedrooms in total. Two being used, two guests and three full baths."

This was his first property earned, tailored specifically to him.

"Ahh" she twirled slowly, following him, albeit speechless. How did he afford this complex in Tokyo?

He led her to a room, first door in the hallway, she guessed it was his office. The room was as organized as his first impression to her was. The desk clear, files carefully labeled, and stationary items in the steel netted cup. She refrained from remarking the coursing theme of dark, dull colors everywhere, including the unwavering tidiness as he led them in.

"Please, sit down." He suggested, switching the lights on. Keeping the door open, he made his way to the black office chair.

Sitting down the mahogany sofa offered, she folded her hands on her lap, lowering her case on the floor.

"Thank you for coming, Fujioka-san." He stared at her, resting his elbows.

"Thank you for the invite, Ootori-san."

"Any questions before the briefing." His voice slipped into sophistication.

"No." She blinked, lightly gulping when the air became tense.

He turn towards his lit monitor, tapping the keyboard, pulling out a drawer and handed a folder with his contact information and a signia of "Ootori" in black, purple and yellow. She opened the black folder and pulled a sturdy packet out, semi-surprised and amused.

"Good, then lets talk. If questions arise during the briefing, you may direct them at the end. This proposal has to do with the collaborative partnership with your law firm and my practice, you acting as my personal lawyer."

"Uh huh.." She urged him to continue as she looked down at the papers.

He really prepared himself...

The documents were thick and the paper had weight to it, unlike regular paper. The signia, the preparation. Such efficiency..

"The first page will detail the requirements you must fulfill, the duty to protect our practice, the address to the clinic, and the hours you'll be working."

She nodded, flipping the page.

"From the moment you sign this contract, you'll be binded to our deal for two full years from this date. You'll receive a salary of approximately one-million-two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand yen a year–"

 _Ehhhh—!_

"Wait _what_! One thousand-two hundred and fifty million yen for a starting salary? You must be joking!" She gasped startled, fists balled tightly, turning white. He fixed his glasses, surprised at her explosive reaction. Yet, he refrained from showing.

"Of course not. It's written in the third page of the contract. I _am_ to make sure my partner's needs are sufficiently filled and.. in return, I expect loyalty to be first and foremost." He clarified, flipping his hard copy of the contract to the correct page to show her. She squinted a bit, reading the passage:

 _"(f.1) As the partnership dictates, Dr. Kyoya Ootori will be sole responsible as the financial provider for the attorney, Haruhi Fujioka's salary for the next two years. It is agreed upon, the starting and set salary will be: ¥1,250,000. (One million-two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand yen) *Non-negotiable*. Unless, for some reason the contract is terminated._

 _(f.2) Vacations will be allotted for national and religious holidays and a minimum of three paid weeks of emergency leave per year. All leave must be warned in advance, following the Nishimura & Asahi Law Firm protocol. The Nishimura & Asahi Firm will only represent Haruhi Fujioka in this duration and in return their services advertised."_

"Ohh." She flipped to the correct page, now embarrassed from outburst. "This is just.. very generous of you, Ootori-sama.." She breathed out, about to object. Until he cut her off.

"Yes it is, and If you aren't comfortable with this given money, I could send you bi-weekly payments of approximately.. ¥48076.92." He chided, offering a black pen; a choice.

She accepted the pen apprehensively.

"Before I sign this, what about informing me about the troubles you have and would like for me to settle?" She offered a nervous smile. Did he understand at all the amount he was giving away to her, it grossly felt a lot. Just how much did he have for a doctor and _why_ the amount? Just how big was his legal issues, and they were huge, maybe she wasn't cut out for it.

"Nothing too serious, but a couple of malpractice lawsuits from the newest nurses and interns must be dealt with." He shrugged, his eyes lowering to the pen that had eased its way to the line where she had to sign. She just needed a bit more coaxing.

"You'll be fine." He reassured her softly.

This was just a proposition to get around his tumultuous emotions, not to burden her conscience.

She glanced at him one more, first his eyes, but immediately wavered.

His eyes were absolutely frightening. Chilling, cold, frigid, one out of her nightmares. An ominious grey, found in thunder and lightning storms. They were fierce, intimidating and unmistakably formidable. Why hadn't she seen them before? Was it a bad omen, that he was unpredictable and violent as those storms.

Beneath the weight of her fear, despite it, she knew he wasn't lying, and her answer was still intact.

"I'm trusting you." She matched his authority in her voice, looking uneasily at his pair of resolute eyes.

He tilted his head. _Did she figure something out?_

With confidence, she signed the papers, ending with a swipe. Silencing his worries.

* * *

 ***Author's Note***

Readers, I'm back and I apologize for the months of waiting! I was bound tightly by senior duties, writer's block, and currently college prep. But still, was pleasantly surprised by the feedback every time I returned to see how it was going.

Revisiting my previous chapter and your reviews, I did see my glaring grammatical mistakes and awkward moments, therefore I hope to tweak them in the future under the radar.. and to be completely honest.. There were times I hit the backspace multiple times, feeling like I should quit while I was ahead, cause I wasn't completely sure where to go with the story but because of you guys, I didn't. Instead, I wrote a rough draft for the future events of this story.

In addition, I would like to give a special thanks to the very first reviewers who urged me to continue and kept me motivated during the time I was away:

 **ALB15,** **purple peace sign dolphin,** **naturalbornescars,** **Tigyr,** **xCalavera,** **BlossomCutie,** **alexisgalvez53,** **ArouraLeona** **, Jenny, xxxSerinaxxx, neverbetter21, Kinz00, KiAnson,** and the guests!

Again, thank you _so_ much for your continued support! Please leave a review or some criticism! I dedicate this next chapter to you all.

 _-_ **BumblingHare**


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